


Never is Today

by BoudicaMuse



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), F/M, Hate Sex, Light BDSM, Not Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoudicaMuse/pseuds/BoudicaMuse
Summary: People dealt with the fallout of the Snap in different ways. For Darcy, that meant crying a lot every time the anniversary rolled around and then mostly just getting on with life. It’d be a lot easier to do that if Clint would leave her alone, but she seems to have gotten under his skin as much as he’s gotten under hers.





	Never is Today

**Author's Note:**

> This has been kicking around in my head since February when there was a false leak that Darcy and Erik would be helping to undo the snap. So glad to finally get it all out on the page.
> 
> This fits pretty neatly in the canon, the only difference (other than the obvious) is that it takes a lot longer for Tony to come up with the solution and Erik didn't get dusted in the snap.

Hawkeye—or Ronin as he was known these days—was lurking in the kitchen again, staring dead-eyed out the window while he menacingly cut up an apple with a knife the length of Darcy's forearm. He wasn't even bothering to use the perfectly good cutting board on the counter in front of him, just carving off slices and popping them in his mouth. So far Darcy had made it a habit of suddenly finding elsewhere to be whenever he exhibited this behavior, which was _always_, but now she also needed to cut something up and she wasn't about to risk a knife injury just so Arrow Boy's angst could remain undisturbed.

“Hey.” She stayed well out of stabbing distance and forced a friendly smile. “You mind if I use that cutting board for a sec?”

He eyed her silently and after a beat, shrugged minutely but didn't move. Jesus Christ, what a fucking dick. Darcy covered her frustration with another smile and cautiously slid the board away from him. She prepped her snack of cucumber slices and hummus as quick as she could, trying to ignore the glances he cast her way. Apparently she was more interesting than the overgrown lawn and the empty hangar.

Finished, she rinsed off the board and set it aside to dry and looked up to find she'd interested him enough that he was now flat out staring at her. “What?”

“Look, I’m sure you’re a nice girl, but I’m not interested.”

Darcy took a step back in surprise. “_What_?”

“I’m flattered, but I’m sure you know—” He cut himself off and his eyes darted away for a second before he tried again. “It’s just never gonna happen.”

“Who says I want it to?” Darcy demanded. 

“Look, it’s fine. You just got this real nervous energy about you whenever I get near. I thought maybe if I said something you’d get over it. It’s nothing personal.”

“You make me nervous because you have serial killer eyes and you cut your produce with a freaking machete, not because I’m _into_ you. There may only be three and a half billion people on the planet now, but I can still find someone with a better haircut than _that_.”

Darcy snatched her bowl off the counter and left without another word, brushing past Rhodey, who was doing a terrible job of hiding his smile. Great, now the whole house would hear about this. Hopefully he’d do her a solid and spread the accurate version of events and not one where she came off as a schoolgirl pining after a traumatised widower, but she knew enough about rumors to know that they’d both end up looking bad.

Just as she turned the corner, she heard him ask Rhodey, “What's wrong with my hair?”

* * *

A new song came on and Darcy bopped her head and shimmied her shoulders to the music. Erik must have been having one of his rough days because he had yet to appear in the lab that morning. Which was terrible for him of course, but fine with Darcy, because alone time meant not limiting her chair dance routine. The song called for a spin, so she spun, and caught sight of their resident wannabe-ninja leaning against the doorway. Darcy yelped and flung out her feet to stop the spin, her flailing hands ripping out her earbuds in the process.

“What is wrong with you?! How long have you been standing there?”

“Judging by your moves, ‘bout two or three songs.”

“Did I miss the part in your miserable backstory where you’re actually an alien? ‘Cause standing around staring at someone for the length of two or three songs is not very human of you, dude.”

“I didn’t want to scare you. Since you seem to think I’m so scary.”

“I’m very sorry to break this to you, _Ronin_, or whatever the fuck your name is, but you are. You are scary and I’m sure you have plenty of reasons for defaulting to murder mode when your life went to shit, but I’d appreciate it if you stopped doing it around me.”

“It’s Clint,” he said, coming closer. 

“What?” That’s what he took away from her little rant? That she didn’t know his name?

“The Ronin thing was a bad idea and I can’t be Hawkeye anymore, so now it’s just Clint.”

“I don’t care what you call yourself, I just want you to stop staring at me.”

“Yeah, see, I don’t think you do.” He crossed his arms, his sleeveless hoodie showing off those ugly ass Vietnam vet tattoos he’d marked his skin up with. “I don’t think you’re actually scared of me at all.”

“Sure, it’s not like you’re always lurking in any available corner and staring at people like you want to know what their insides look like. I guess I’ve just got a vivid imagination.”

He leaned in close, eyes narrowed, and in a rough voice whispered, “That’s what I’m saying. What exactly are you imagining I’m going to do to you?”

It should have been threatening, and it was. It made the hair on the back of Darcy’s neck stand up in fear. But it also made her stomach tighten with arousal, which in turn caused a new burst of anger to flare in her. She didn’t want him to be right, dammit.

“I wouldn’t want to give you any ideas,” she hissed at him.

He smirked and turned to go. “That’s alright, I got plenty of my own.”

And if she got herself off that night to the thought of grabbing him by that stupid hair of his and forcing his head between her legs, well, no one needed to know about that. 

Except it wasn’t just that night. It was the start of a pattern that left Darcy panting and sweating and aching for more every single night. She tried to fight it by picturing someone, anyone else, tried to go even one night without touching herself to break herself of the habit. Nothing worked, though. Every night she closed her eyes and she felt his imaginary hands on her body, saw the danger in the way he looked at her, and every night she came with his name on her lips. 

Worse than the way he looked at her in her fantasies was the smirking, knowing looks he gave her in real life. As far as she knew he wasn’t a mind reader, but all the same, he seemed to know just how wet he made her panties and he seemed to be enjoying the hell out of it.

“Did you know, I can actually see your heart rate speed up whenever I get closer?” he said to her conversationally one day. She’d been sitting at the kitchen table, reading and minding her own business when he sat down next to her and began sharpening a knife. “The pulse in your neck starts jumping.”

“Elevated heart rate is a pretty common fear response,” Darcy said, turning the page. She had no idea what she’d just read, but she was here first and she’d be damned if he chased her off with his creepy and disturbingly hot behavior.

“Pretty common sign of arousal, too.” He ran his thumb over the edge of the blade to test its sharpness before scraping against the whetstone again.

“I’m sure a lot of fear responses could be mistaken for arousal if someone was looking to twist them that way.”

“Human bodies are weird like that. But you know, there’s a lot more ways to respond to fear than just fight or flight. Some people freeze up, some people roll over and show their bellies. Some people just get real horny. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Darcy snapped her book shut. “I take it back. You’re not scary, you’re just annoying.”

That seemed to startle a real, smirk-free smile out of him, and Darcy felt it like a shockwave. She’d never seen him without that murderous look in his eyes and without it, she couldn’t just grudgingly admit he was hot in a Ted Bundy kind of way. He was actually really handsome and it looked like once upon a time he might have had kind eyes. The happy smile disappeared as quickly as it came though, replaced by something cruel and mocking.

“I guess I better not cut my hair then, or you won’t be able to help yourself.”

“Leave me the fuck alone, Clint,” Darcy said, and she grabbed her book and left. 

To her utter surprise, he finally took her words to heart and left her alone. Days went by with no sign of him, which was a pretty difficult thing to achieve when they lived down the hall from each other. She almost asked Natasha if he’d gone somewhere, but didn’t want to risk it getting back to him.

The thing was, it wasn’t like she couldn’t see what he was doing. He was obviously very fucked up over the loss of his family and handling it in a series of terrible ways. Fine. People dealt with the fallout of the Snap with various levels of fuckery. Darcy herself had spent two weeks crying and refusing to eat or shower. Now she just did a mini version of that every anniversary and for the most part got on with her life. 

She was glad he’d stopped straight up murdering people because no matter how evil they were, that kind of thing put a stain on your soul, but this whole teasing Darcy about how badly she wanted his cock thing was not much of an improvement in her eyes. Mostly because he was right and she knew he wasn’t going to do anything about it beyond torture her with the knowledge. He wasn’t killing anymore, but he was still looking to cause pain.

* * *

It was another one of those days when Erik was too despondent to get out of bed that Clint strolled into the lab again. She was standing by the coffee machine and facing the door this time, so she didn’t even have the excuse of being startled for the way her pulse jumped in her throat. No excuse at all but the way he was looking at her and the fact that she’d practically been conditioned by this point to get turned on whenever he was within twenty feet of her. 

“I’ll have some of that,” Clint said, jutting his chin towards the half-full pot. 

Darcy looked at the pot in her hand, then upended it into the kitchenette sink. “Whoops, looks like we’re out.”

Clint tsked and sidled up next to her to lean a hip on the counter. “Still mad I was right, huh? Don’t worry, Darcy. I’m sure someone else will get you all hot and bothered soon enough and you’ll forget all about me.”

“I thought we were done with this. What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to stop lying and admit you want me.” He leaned in close and she refused to back away. 

“Fine. I admit it. I get myself off every night thinking about how hot the two of us would be together. You happy now?” 

“Not even a little bit,” he said, close enough now that she could feel his breath on her lips.

“Yeah, me neither.” 

Whether he kissed her or she kissed him was irrelevant. Whoever started it, their lips met with bruising force. There was nothing affectionate or soft about it, just hunger and frustration and teeth. A lot of teeth. 

“What happened to ‘it’s never gonna happen?’” Darcy asked when he used those teeth to worry at her pulse point. She was going to have the mother of all hickeys after this, visible proof that he wanted this as badly as she did, so she didn’t even try to temper the sneer in her voice.

“What happened to finding someone with a better haircut?” he shot back.

“If I don’t look at it, I don’t have to see it.”

“Let me help you out with that,” he said and spun her around. He left rough, biting kisses all up and down the length of her neck and pulled down her pants and underwear in one swift movement, yanking the fabric hard enough that she heard a stitch pop.

His hands grabbed at her ass, kneading it and scratching his blunt fingernails over her skin. He pushed up her shirt so he could drag his calloused palm over her back and if this were any kind of normal sexual encounter, she’d help him out by taking it off. That didn’t seem to be what he was after though, and she wasn’t really in the mood for dragging this out any longer than necessary anyway. His fingers slipped into her pussy from behind and Darcy gasped and braced herself on the counter in front of her, spreading her legs as far as her pants would allow. 

“You’re so fucking wet and it’s because of me. I don’t care how hard you squeeze your eyes shut, it’s still me making you feel this way,” he growled in her ear and she clenched down hard on his hand in response. 

“I already admitted I think you’re hot, what more do you want from me?” Darcy said, but it was a struggle to even get the words out. She pushed her pussy back onto his hand, hoping he’d get the hint that she wasn’t really in the mood for talking.

“I don’t want you to forget it.”

Like that was fucking likely. She’d never had someone finger her in the middle of her workplace before, and she’d definitely never had someone so good at zeroing in on her g-spot while they did it. Obviously he was looking for an ego boost though and she wasn’t about to give it to him by telling him any of that. 

“Don’t be forgettable, then.”

Clint’s hand tightened painfully on her ass, then he reached around and circled her clit hard and fast with his fingers and her orgasm hit her just as hard and fast. He worked her through it until she was done shaking under his hands, then he wiped his fingers on the inside of her thigh and patted her lightly on the ass. Darcy looked over her shoulder to see him already walking away. 

“Hey! We’re not done here.”

“I am. Sweet dreams, Darcy.” 

He tossed her a little wave, but didn’t even look back on his way out, leaving her standing there with her pants around her knees and her own juices dripping down her thighs.

* * *

Things were quiet for awhile after that despite the rage churning inside Darcy. Maybe because Clint had up and disappeared again because apparently that was something he could just do whenever he wanted. Talking to the rest of their housemates, it seemed like he was still around, just not wherever Darcy was. Which was fine with her, because if he’d shown his face immediately after that little show in the lab, she probably would have thrown something at him. And then missed, which would have been even more embarrassing than walking around all week looking like she’d been mauled by a vampire. 

Even worse, in between being blisteringly mad at him, he was popping up even more frequently in her fantasies. Any spare moment and her mind seemed to drift to Clint, wondering what else he could do to her with those talented hands of his. _Sweet dreams_. Asshole. Her daydreams were full of him and she was sick of it.

Just as she was getting comfortable with not seeing him everywhere she turned, she pushed her bedroom door open one night to find him sitting on the edge of her bed, reading one of the books she kept in a stack on the nightstand. 

“Sweet Jesus fucking Christ!” Darcy yelped, pressing her hand to her chest and leaning against the door. “What the fuck, Clint?!”

"You really read this shit?" 

He turned the cover to face her, showing off the grungy script font over a feather dripping with blood. It was just one of the paranormal YA novels she liked to read to wind down before bed. Maybe not the highest form of literature, but sometimes she just wanted brain candy. 

"I don't remember asking your opinion on my bedtime reading material," she said, ripping it out of his hands and putting it back on top of the stack where it belonged. "What are you doing lurking in my room, you big creep?"

He stood and brushed her hair back from her face and pulled her scarf away from where it was hiding the fading bruises on her neck. His thumb pressed into the big one on her pulse point and the ache in her neck was echoed by a throb of her traitorous pussy. She didn't want to want him, but her body had other ideas.

"You still don't seem to like me very much."

"Gee, I wonder why that might be. You're just so charming."

Clint tugged on the end of the scarf, unwinding it from around her neck and dropping it on the ground and she just let him. He ducked his head to suck at her fading bruise and she let him do that too. It hurt, but at this point, she was afraid of what she'd let him do if he tried being gentle.

He sucked and nipped his way up her throat and captured her lips in a punishing kiss and she fought back in kind, pouring every bit of anger and shame and frustration he'd inspired into their kiss. God, he sucked so bad and she still wanted him to fuck her through a wall.

Her shirt hit the floor next and predictably, Clint got distracted by her breasts, his hands grasping and pinching and scraping. She wasn't being gentle with her touches either, her nails leaving raised welts down the length of his stupid tattoo sleeve. Maybe he wasn’t the only one looking to cause a little pain and maybe that was why she couldn’t resist opening her big mouth. 

“Don’t you want me to turn around so you can pretend I’m your dead wife again?” Darcy asked, instantly embarrassed at how venomous she sounded. She wasn't trying to compete with dust and memories, she just didn't want to be some subpar stand-in either. 

He smirked like he'd expected something like that from her. “I don’t need to see your face to know you’re not her. I just wanted to look at your ass while I fucked you.”

“And now?”

Clint pinched her nipple hard through her bra. “I like looking at you from this angle, too.”

“You gonna actually use your cock to fuck me this time or do I only get your fingers again?”

“You want it, you gotta beg for it.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. Did she really want it bad enough to deal with this bullshit? God help her, she really did. Wouldn’t hurt to put up a little fight, though.

“Please, Clint,” Darcy said, totally monotone. “Please fuck me with your cock.”

“Yeah, no,” he said, heading for the door. “Maybe some other time.”

“Wait.” 

He half-turned back toward her, his feet still ready for the next step out the door, and Darcy gritted her teeth and circled around so she was between him and the door. She glared hard at him, making sure he knew everything she was about to do was nothing more than an act, then sank to her knees.

An obvious bulge was tenting the front of his jeans. Seeing that made this easier to go through with. At least he wasn't completely unaffected by her and just stringing her along as part of some fucked up power play. That was definitely part of it, but it wasn't _all_ that was happening. She swayed forward and pressed her face to the hard ridge of his cock, the bridge of her nose sliding along the length of it, and breathed in the musky scent of him.

He tilted her face up with a finger under her chin. "You have something to say?"

"Please?" Darcy said. She didn't even have to work to make her voice all breathy like that, just being this close to him did it for her. "I want your cock inside of me. Please fuck me with it, Clint?"

"You wanna be more specific about that?"

Darcy smothered a spark of annoyance. "I will happily suck you off some other time, but I would really like to feel your cock inside my pussy tonight. I am not into anal. Is that specific enough for you?"

"Come here," he said, increasing the pressure of the finger under her chin until she stood. He went to unhook her bra and Darcy twisted away from him.

"Uh uh. You haven't said yes yet, and even if you had, I wouldn't trust you not to leave again. Pants off. Now."

"When I'm ready," he said, reaching for her.

Darcy slapped his hand away. "Cut it out. You're not my dom, you're just some guy lost on an ego trip. I said I wanted you, I begged for you, now either deliver the goods or get out."

He cracked that rare smile again, like he found her standing up for herself funny or something, but he grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Oh, that was unfair. How the hell was she supposed to have standards for the way he treated her when he looked like _that_?

"Better," she said, pulling together the shreds of her dignity. "Still not what I asked for."

"I think I liked you better when you were scared of me."

"No, you didn't."

He narrowed his eyes at her, but he lost the rest of his clothes, and as a reward for his good behavior, Darcy matched him garment for garment. 

"Lay down," he said, walking her back until her legs hit the edge of the bed.

"Stop being so bossy and I might actually go along with what you say."

He was close enough now that she felt his cock, hard and hot against her stomach, and she held on tight to his shoulders to keep from overbalancing and falling backward onto the bed.

"Do as you're told and I'll make it worth your while." He rolled one of her nipples between his fingers and Darcy's eyelids fluttered closed. 

She let one of her hands skim down over his chest and tight belly and wrap around his cock. She gave it a single squeeze and opened her eyes to see him watching her with a tortured expression.

"Say please."

"I want you to lay down, so that when I eat your pussy and make you come so hard you scream my name, you won't fall down and hurt yourself. Also, it's a better angle. Now will you please lay the fuck down?"

Darcy tried to play it off like her knees didn't just give out on her listening to him talk to her like that, but well, she's not sure what else it could have possibly looked like when she basically collapsed onto the bed. Her head found the pillows and Clint's mouth found her neck again. He was going for another massive hickey on the other side of her neck but she just couldn't find the will to care when it felt that good. 

She arched up against him and his cock, which had been resting rather innocently on her thigh, lined up directly with her clit. Already soaking wet—because he was right, he just did that to her—there was no resistance as the length of him slid against the folds of her pussy, the head of his cock rubbing on her clit. She moaned and scratched her nails down his back and he breathed out harshly in her ear, thrusting against her a couple times before he growled and lifted his hips away.

"Ugh, you're such a fucking tease," Darcy whined. "Just fuck me already. I don't need all of this wind up."

"Maybe I do."

Darcy squinted at him. His cock seemed interested enough, but maybe it was the man who needed convincing. He was certainly fucked up enough that the two might be operating independently. It would explain him walking out on her last time, too.

"Fine. I believe I was promised some name screaming?"

With a wicked grin, he sucked her nipple into his mouth and rubbed her clit with feather light touches. It was the softest he'd ever touched her and it felt wrong. She'd come to expect hard and bruising touches from him and this lightness left her squirming and biting her lip, refusing to beg for something more. 

The second she realized that was of course what he was going for, Darcy rolled her eyes and let out a breathy, "harder." He could take it as begging if he wanted, she preferred to think of it as demanding.

Whatever his interpretation, it did the trick. He pressed down harder and switched to her other nipple, but he was still licking and sucking way too gently. She wasn't about to beg again, though, for real or anything close to it. Instead she grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled and he bit down in response. Not enough to really hurt, but enough to show her he got the message. He sucked biting, open-mouthed kisses down over her ribcage and belly, moving with a purpose until he lowered his mouth over her pussy.

He licked one broad swipe of his tongue over her folds and sucked hard on her clit and Darcy moaned and grabbed another handful of hair. Not with any real goal in mind, she just needed something to hold on to. He shook his head irritably and when he spoke, his words vibrated against her sensitive flesh. 

"Stop it. I'm not gonna be any prettier bald."

His mouth went back to licking and sucking at her clit and Darcy scratched at his scalp in apology, then took her hand away, twisting it in the sheets instead. He slipped his fingers inside of her, going right for her g-spot again and she bit down hard on her lip. How was he so goddamn good at that? Her legs started shaking, her orgasm building, but right when she was on the verge of it, he let up on her clit and moved his mouth away to kiss her thigh.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” That came out a little screechy, Darcy realized and she took a deep breath. She’d been so close though, dammit.

He didn’t bother answering except for the forceful twist of his fingers inside her and a light nip on her inner thigh. Fine, whatever. She didn’t want him to use his mouth for talking anyway.

“You know, this is false advertising. I was promised an orgasm.”

He licked a long stripe down the length of her inner thigh, his fingers still keeping up the steady massage of her g-spot and Darcy squirmed, her hands clenching in the sheets and her toes curling. He wasn’t exactly withholding the good feelings, but her clit was begging for attention. Oh, the asshole. That was what he wanted.

“I’m not going to beg again.”

“Who asked you to?” His mouth was hot and wet against the inside of her knee and about a foot away from where she wanted it. 

Then he sucked a hickey into her inner thigh that made her eyes roll back in her head and Darcy let out a strangled sob of frustration. Fuck this. Her clit was practically throbbing with the need to be touched and if he wouldn’t do it, she would. Before her fingers could make contact though, he grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip and pressed it to the mattress.

“Oh my god, I hate you,” she whined.

He lifted his head to look her in the eye, his mouth hovering over her pussy. “Now. Now, I want you to beg.”

“Fuck you.”

Clint shrugged and pulled his fingers away, lifting them to his mouth to suck them clean. “Fine, you’re on your own, then.”

Darcy sat up and slapped him in the chest. “I’m not begging for something you already want to give me, asshole. You’re the one who wanted to go down on me. You didn’t wait for me in my room just to play mind games, you came here to fuck me and you know it. So get it over with already.”

With narrowed eyes, Clint pushed her back against the pillows and crawled up her body, his cock swinging hard and flushed between them, and his eyes locked on her mouth. God, if this was just another tease, she really was going to kick him out. 

“I hate you, too, you know,” he said, nipping at the underside of her jaw.

Darcy squeezed his cock tight in her hand and rubbed the head of it over her clit before lining it up with her pussy. “No, you don’t. You hate that you want me. Well too bad, there’s a lot of that going around.”

With a biting kiss on her lips, he entered her in one forceful thrust and Darcy’s nails dug into his back. It had been far too long since she’d had a real cock in her and oh, it was so much better than all of her fevered daydreams had imagined. He was hot to the touch and his breath was harsh in her ear and he couldn’t keep his damn hands off of her, grabbing and kneading and scratching at anything he could reach. 

“Touch yourself,” he said, and Darcy’s hands obeyed before she could even think about fighting the command. 

One hand pinched and rolled a nipple between her fingers while the other snaked between them, circling her clit. Between all of the teasing he’d done earlier and the relentless pounding of his cock inside her, it didn’t take much before her legs started quaking around his hips. When she came, she didn't scream anything in particular, let alone his name, but that was only because she was too far gone to form words. 

Once Darcy could see something besides stars again, she realized Clint had slowed his pace to watch her and every drawn out stroke of his cock just made her shiver with aftershocks. She thrusted back against him, trying to encourage him to fuck her harder. 

“Come on,” Darcy said, her voice croaky and dry from yelling out her release. “Don’t go soft on me now.”

Clint drew out until just the tip of his cock was still inside of her, then sank back into her, agonizingly slow, so she could feel every inch. “Does that feel soft to you?”

“Not what I meant and you know it.” Her pussy clamped down around him and her whole body shuddered with pleasure. Her hand went to her clit again and her eyes slipped closed. If he was going to drag things out like this, she might as well go for one more. 

“No,” he said, tapping her on the cheek. “You wanna come again, you gotta look at me while you do it.”

Darcy opened her eyes and glared up at him, taking in the way his stupid hair was all mussed from sex and falling in his eyes, the way his biceps flexed under the black and green ink of his tattoos. She hated all of it, but that wasn’t enough to cool how hot she was for the thrust of his cock or the way his hands felt on her skin. Her hand sped up and he finally so did he, pounding into her hard enough to make her breasts bounce with every thrust. She came with her eyes locked on his, and his hips stuttered against hers, his fingers digging into her thighs as he came too. 

Clint seemed to recover first, or maybe he was just anxious to get away from her. At least they could agree that there was no need for any kind of afterglow cuddling. Darcy wanted him gone and out of her space so she could spend the rest of the night avoiding thinking about whatever the hell that had just been.

A knock on the door startled both of them, freezing them in their silent race to get dressed.

“Clint, you in there?” Natasha called through the door.

“You told her about this?” Darcy whispered furiously.

Clint sighed and headed for the door, pulling his shirt on along the way. “I didn’t need to tell her, she just always knows.”

He opened the door and Darcy frantically looked around, but her shirt was nowhere to be found and there was nowhere for her to hide. Natasha darted a look over Clint’s shoulder, taking in the fact that Darcy was just standing around in only a bra and pants. If she disapproved, there was no trace of it on her face, just a small nervous furrow between her brows.

“Stark’s here,” she said to Clint, her voice heavy with meaning. “He has something he wants to show us.”

There was only one reason Stark would be there and they all knew it. He’d figured out what Bruce and Erik couldn’t. Clint cast one last look at Darcy that might have been angry or guilty or hell, maybe he was just constipated. Then he turned and left, closing the door behind him with a snap.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This one was pretty different from my usual stuff, so if you liked it, please don't forget to leave a kudos, or you can really make my day and leave a comment.
> 
> You can also reblog it on Tumblr, [here](https://stuffedpretzel.tumblr.com/post/188501456901/fic-never-is-today-by-boudicamuse-rating-e).


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